of castles and clouds
by lauren lachrymose
Summary: And that's when it shatters — AxelKairi; AU
1. one

**note;** This was greatly inspired by a four-hour Gossip Girl marathon I had on Tuesday.  
I really like the idea of the KH characters living in New York, for whatever reason.  
So yeah, this is going to be an AU drabble series centering around Kairi and Axel.  
The other characters will make appearances too, though. I promise. Enjoy!

**of castles and clouds.**

Each flash of the camera makes her weak at the knees; each click of the shutter makes her sway. She becomes unsubstantial, nothing more than a frozen smile glittering on the lens. And as she stands there, as the indecipherable roar of voices becomes louder, the princess disappears. Now you see her, now you don't.

(_If there's no princess in the castle, who is there to save_?)

- x -

The smoldering end of a cigarette is suddenly crushed by a very expensive designer boot (_black, of course; the color of the Upper East Side_), the dying spark forming a mark on the impeccable marble flooring right underneath a 'No Smoking' sign. Heads turn. Eyes widen. A single name bounces around the room, off of each silk tie and diamond-studded watch.

"_Axel."_

Everyone who is anyone knows him, and if you don't, you are _nobody_. And Axel doesn't waste time with nobodies, of course. It just isn't the way things are done around here.

- x -

The girl with the hair that's too bright and too straight sits at a crowded table, her head tipped back with laughter. The man with the eyes that are too piercing and too cold watches her, a lazy smile spreading across his face as he takes a drink of wine that he's not old enough to have (_but the Manhattan elite don't play by the rules now, do they?_) She looks like all of the other young women there – beautiful, well dressed, in need of a meal or two – but there's something a little… _off. _It isn't her fake smile or eyes a haunted blue (_because everyone is pretending, honey; a pretty play for all to see_). It's something else, something different.

Something new.

And Axel continues to observe, not noticing when a drop a wine lands on his tie as he falls down a step on the social stairway. Poor, poor Axel. Hasn't anyone told him? The faster you rise…

The harder you _fall._

- x -

He speaks to her with pretty words that skate around the room, with wandering hands that push back a lock of her hair. Her first reaction is to push him backwards onto the posh furniture, but an unexpected arrangement of letters quells the urge.

"I'm sorry."

His voice is something that the girl has only known on television and movie screens. Sincere.

"Why?" It comes out shaky, uncertain, afraid. She doesn't trust him. Rule #13 of the Upper East Side – don't show any other emotion other than anger; anger, when controlled, can help you claw your way to the top of the food chain. Anything else only pulls you down.

He moves his hand from her hair to his own, running his fingers through the red mane and looking away as though embarrassed. "That you have to live this way. I'm sorry for the lie that is 'Manhattan socialite'."

The girl parts her perfectly glossed lips, and then closes them, shocked. A heavy silence sits on top of the pair, until Axel asks his last question of the evening.

"What's your name?"

For a moment, she is insulted. Has she not gotten enough recognition for her modeling career? But the liar he had apologized for earlier is promptly shut away, and the truth comes out of hiding.

"Kairi. My name is Kairi."


	2. TWO

**note;** Part deux! New characters are introduced in this one, so there isn't as much Kaixel.  
Sorry. I promise that everything will tie together in time. This is only the beginning.

- x -

**ii.**

- x -

Sitting on an upturned paint bucket in a decrepit opera house, is a boy. A boy with hair the color of sawdust and eyes made of ice that never melts. He owns nothing but the clothes on his back and a crumpled five dollar bill, but that is all he's ever known. It's not what he wants, and he certainly doesn't have what he needs, but his life is the only one he has, so he takes it. He lives it one day at a time, holding onto the fact that it's the one thing that's truly_his_ and not someone else's.

And this boy isn't really a boy at all. Living as a squatter in New York squeezes the childhood out of you at an early age, and at sixteen, he has been through more hardship than the average thirty year old. (_There are no playgrounds or party hats in the photograph record of his life_)

A porcelain doll walks up to the not-boy and kneels, taking his hand into her own. Her white blonde hair falls around her face in tangles, black dye hanging on the underside of the faded locks.

"It'll be okay, Roxas. I promise."

Roxas jerks away from her suddenly, knocking the bucket over with his feet. A yell forms low in his throat, but dies before it hits his lips. His frozen eyes thaw slightly as he looks at her, the water starting to pool around the edges. But he blinks and the blue orbs freeze once more, all signs of weakness gone.

"No, Naminé. It _won't_." The words are sharp as he flings them at her; a few of the letters scrape the already chipping porcelain of her face. She's a doll that's falling apart at the seams.

Naminé begins to cry the tears that Roxas won't allow himself to have. Her bony hands dig into the worn fabric of her skirt as she dimly registers the sound of sirens outside. (_Scurry, hurry little mice; the cat is back to play_)

"Hayner is _DEAD_! Gone! You want to know _why_?!" Angry hands tear blindly at a moth-eaten curtain, "BECAUSE OF US! BECAUSE OF THIS!" The curtain falls to the floor in a whirl of dust and hatred that Roxas begins to choke on; he coughs violently and falls the same way the drape had before. His body shakes in the dim light. Blood splatters against his palm.

Naminé cries harder than before, but rushes to his side and hauls him up against her. Ignorance dressed in navy blue pounds at the theatre door, signaling the rest of the pack out of hiding. A young man with a camera hanging around his neck helps Naminé move Roxas out of the back door along with everyone else, the '_No Admittance_' sign swinging on its rusty nail as the group runs headfirst into the darkness of the alleyway.

- x -

He's a horrible sight – all dried blood and bruised skin. Pieces of asphalt are embedded in his sandy hair; one of his arms is twisted back at an unnatural angle. He has been left here to die.

But when she looks for a pulse, she finds one. It's hidden, but there none the less.

An expensive cell phone is flipped open and a three digit number is dialed. A worried expression dances on her face, and she asks to ride in the ambulance with this beaten stranger, this trampled boy. And when consciousness slips back into him, he sees her and he smiles.

(_Because he thinks he's gone to heaven, with the angel and her kind green eyes_)

- x -

"You're crazy."

It's a very blunt statement, but what else would Kairi expect from her best friend?

"Probably," she agrees with a shrug of her small shoulders, but grins recklessly at the blue-eyed boy in front of her.

He lets out an exasperated sigh and gives Kairi a pointed look. "Have you told Riku yet?"

The young girl's smile slips onto her designer shoes. Now it's time for her to redirect her friend's statement back at him. "Sora, if you think I'm going to tell Riku, then _you _must be crazy."

Sora lets out an offended grunt and sits down in one of the many uncomfortable white chairs in Kairi's breakfast room. "If you plan on pursuing this guy, then don't you think Riku is going to find out anyway? You know better than anyone that there's no such thing as a secret in the Upper East Side."

But Kairi wasn't listening to her best friend's self-titled 'wisdom'. She was too busy staring at the name that was blinking up at her from her cell phone.

In-coming Call… _Axel_.


	3. three

**a/n: **Finally, the third chapter! 8D  
Inspiration hit suddenly as soon as final exams ended.  
Huh. I wonder why. xD This chapter raises even more  
questions. Sorry about that. They'll be answered in time.  
I promise.

- x -

**iii.**

- x -

Neon lights flicker warily as she walks by, unsure what a girl like _that_ is doing in a place like _this_. Silently, the girl wonders the same thing, but continues on into the night, ignoring the winks and leers from passing windowpanes. The orchestra of humming air conditioners and barking dogs plays the same old song for all to hear, but only one set of ears is listening as if for the first time.

"Kairi?"

The voice belongs to a man of eighteen, and although young, he generally puts off an air of success that even the hardest working businessman can not produce. But today his signature smirk is turned downward into a hard, thin line that is too straight-edged for a man of his reputation.

The unmistakable stench of humanity envelops the pair standing by the rusting doorway. There is no money to wipe it away, here. No Dior perfume or expensive Italian wine. It is unmarred in all of its imperfection; untainted in its faults. (_Welcome to the real world, honey. Enjoy your stay_).

The young girl who the name belongs to feels blood rush to her cheeks at the mere sight of the young man before her, despite the heavy frost that coats the entire situation. His call had been urgent, and no matter of Sora's disapproval or the shady location could have stopped her from coming.

And there she is.

A girl.

With a man.

In an alleyway.

Romantic, right?

Kairi's right foot takes a tentative step toward him, ignoring the fact that the puddle her shoe had just met is most likely going to ruin the leather. Because the look in his eyes is that of a man trying too hard to pull himself together; the green is cracked and dulled in places where a mischievous twinkle used to reside.

His next words are sudden.

"Come with me."

She does.

- x -

The sound of rainfall begins to resonate throughout the tiny room. Demyx doesn't know why, but the soft pitter-patter of water running down the sides of the ancient brick walls is relaxing somehow. A child's toy piano sits dejectedly on one side of the room, its keys drowning in the white dust of lonely years. The young man looks at the instrument with something like sympathy, and then proceeds to sit down Indian-style in front of it.

"Hello, there. My name's Demyx. What's yours?" He whispers softly to the chipped plastic, letting the raindrops form a tempo as his fingers settle on the aged keyboard.

Memories of callused fingertips, Jimi Hendrix records, and a guitar case full of change rush back to him.

And the music begins.

It's a beautiful and haunted tune that plays with an almost eerie innocence. It swells as the notes become louder, more insistent. Life and love and loss all swim through the flow of dotted-halves and wholes that rise from the small piano, and they tangle themselves in Demyx's greasy knots of blonde hair. They writhe and dance in time to the music, which hurts, but Demyx doesn't care. It's better this way.

If someone was to enter the room at this particular moment, all they would hear is the strange sound of fingers hitting plastic keys. Nothing more, nothing less.

Because the toy piano had been broken for many years. Its battery-induced life had ended long ago.

But Demyx keeps playing, keeps moving, keeps hearing. The music is his own, tonight.

- x -

"Kairi, it is my greatest pleasure to introduce to you the lovely Naminé."

Dry charm hastily covers up any waver in his voice, any sign of weakness. After all, he was raised to wink and make respectable young ladies swoon, no matter what else was going on that made his ridiculous lifestyle seem unimportant.

The girl called Naminé studies her scuffed black boots with great interest.

Kairi pushes back a lock of her hair timidly, the blue of her quick glance toward Axel staining the thick air around them. "Um… nice to meet you. Naminé, right?"

The girl moves her head slightly. Kairi takes this as a nod.

Axel puts his hand on Kairi's shoulder (_a touch so electric_) and his tone of voice changes from bitter to soft. "Naminé needs our help. One of her friends has been…" He pauses for a moment, and his next words are harsher, rawer than they had been before. "… Well, he's not in the best frame of mind right now. He's been dealing with a lot lately, and I just think everything hit him all at once." A defeated sigh tumbles clumsily out of the corner of his lips, "He's sick, Kairi. Physically and emotionally. We – _Naminé_ doesn't know what to do."

Kairi blinks. Once. Twice. Her brain attempts to process the information he fed her in his little speech, but something just doesn't make any sense.

"Axel… What does this have to do with _you_?"

A dangerous look flashes in those guarded green eyes, silencing the question.

Kairi fidgets uncomfortably for a minute, feeling altogether out of place in this abandoned building (_that she feels is filled with secrets much darker than the scandal of the Upper East Side_), but breaks the tension with yet another inquiry.

"So, why am _I _here?"

This seems to perplex the young man; he runs a hand through his wild red hair, and opens and closes his mouth like a puppet with a mute puppeteer. Naminé chances a glimpse upward out of her curtain of insecurity, as if she, too, would like to know.

"I just… I mean, you were the first person who came to mind and I… Well, I really… I thought that maybe you'd be willing to help." Kairi raises an eyebrow at this explanation, but he continues, "Or at least, I got that impression the other night. I thought I could sense something… _different _about you." When Kairi doesn't reply, Axel's expression goes from embarrassed to angry with a flicker of the buzzing fluorescent lights. "But maybe I was wrong."

Kairi idly kicks a bottle cap with the toe of her red flats, unconsciously pulling her hands into fists at her sides. "And what if you were? This _still _wouldn't make this situation any better or any worse! I mean, I can't just _leave _now that – it would be – I'm not that – UGH!" The rain outside drums louder on the roof in time to her outburst, punctuating it. "Are you freakin' crazy?! Is that it?! I hardly know you! And –"

"And yet here you are, standing in front of me, all dressed up for a night on the town." Axel's voice is low, and the danger that Kairi had seen before has taken residence once more inside his eyes. He lets out a humorless laugh. "You're perfectly willing to go out to dinner with a complete stranger, but _helping _a complete stranger is out of the question. Right. You really _aren't_ any different from anyone else..."

One. Two. Three. Each step he takes toward her clicks ominously on the concrete floor.

"_My mistake_."

The words shoot out like bullets and wedge themselves inside of her chest, the shells of the letters clattering to the ground. As she takes a step back from the impact, Kairi swears that she sees smoke curl up from the corners of his mouth.

Images of plastic smiles and sneering faces race throughout her mind; smileforthecamerastandup**s**traightdon'tspeakunlessspoken**t**oallpressisgoodpressy**o**uhavetoclawyourwaytotheto**p**youcan'teattodaywe'reallfakeheredarling**STOP**.

Kairi uncurls her fingers and studies the red crescent moons on her palms.

"Who is he?"

Axel looks up, caught off guard, and snaps, "Who is _who_?"

"The boy who needs help, of course." She says it so casually, like one asks a friend to afternoon coffee. It surprises even herself, but she's too detached to show it.

The broken doll (_Naminé, Naminé_) slides her crystal blue orbs over to Kairi, and whispers so softly that the other girl has to strain to hear it…

"His name is Roxas."

- x -

A door opens slowly, painfully, and reveals a room exactly like all of the others (_lifeless and hollow and gray_). Only in this one, there is a boy. A boy who _used to have _hair like spun gold and eyes like the sky on a summer morning. A boy who _used to have _a smile on his face and a spark in his heart. A boy who _used to have_ dreams and goals and hopes for happy endings.

But not anymore.

Life has given him death, if only in the metaphorical sense.

And as Demyx lies down next to him on the dirty mattress, he sees what _used to be_. He misses it, he needs it.

"Don't worry, Roxas," he says, affectionately stroking his brother's hair, "Nam is bringing an old friend to aid us."

The walls listen closely as Demyx sings a dusty lullaby.

"_Don't worry, don't worry." _

- x -

Hayner wakes up to white and blue and green.

White lights, blue sheets, green eyes.

And a smile.

"Glad to see you're awake. My name is Olette."


	4. FOUR

**note; **All right, now. Chapter four. :) I'm trying to get the plot moving as fast as I can.  
Honest. But all stories start out a little slow, am I right? Eh. Maybe not. Haha. Oh well.  
I tried to add more friction between Kairi and Axel in this chapter, because after all,  
this is a kaixel fic.

- x -

**iv.**

- x -

As Kairi stands there, leaning on the doorframe with the peeling paint and ink pen scars, she finally feels as if she knows why these dirty blonde kids need help.

They are _dying_.

The delicate doll of a girl with the bitten-down nails and hollow blue eyes who grew up too fast, too soon, too miserably.

The man with a tune on his lips and a light in his heart that is in constant danger of being blown out with the frigid winter wind.

The empty husk of a boy with nothing in his eyes or his heart or his lips, nothing but hate for the world that kicked him while he was already down.

Each one of them is dying slowly, painfully, with every haggard breath.

And Kairi continues to stand there, just stand there, and thinks that she was the entirely wrong person to call.

Because if she was honest with herself, really, truly _honest_ with herself, she would say that she is dying, too.

But 'honest' isn't something that they feed children with silver spoons in the Upper East Side.

So Kairi says nothing at all.

"_Who _is_ she_?" The boy in need of saving spits the words at Axel accusingly (_how dare you?!_), eyeing Kairi in a way that makes her feel entirely uncomfortable in her Alice + Olivia metallic shift dress. (_Too shiny and expensive for this side of town_).

Axel catches the train of thought before it reaches the young girl's ears, and halts it with a single glance. _Don't forget, Roxas. I'm part of that world, too._

Eyes (_glazed over with a thin layer of frost_) narrow upon receiving the message. _No. You aren't. _

The one called Demyx interrupts the silent conversation with a weary smile toward Kairi. "So, you're our prince in shining armor? Oops, sorry, prin_cess_. My bad."

The joke is innocent enough. There is no malice in his tone, no spite.

And yet for some inexplicable reason, Kairi wants to hate this man. To hate him and his words and his hope and his grin. She wants to hate him, because he doesn't belong in a city like this, in a world like the one that's forever turning, spinning, revolving in a dark space as empty and cold as the room that they're in now. (_Princess, what princess? There's no princess here. No damsel, no distress, no pink skirts and dainty crown. The princess is dead, all bathed in red._) And Kairi wants to cry.

But she swallows the sob in her throat and keeps the anger in her fist for another day (another dollar), silently cursing these shattered people and the emotion that they manage to bring out of hiding.

"Hey, Kai –" Axel begins, but is abruptly cut off by a loud, obnoxious pop tune that reverberates throughout the entire expanse of the weathered room.

It takes Kairi ten seconds to realize that it's her phone.

Letting out a tiny 'oh!' and feeling remarkably idiotic, the auburn-haired girl puts a hand in her tiny clutch purse and pulls out a slim, silver cell phone. The digital arrangement of letters seems to concern her, as her eyebrows knit together before she flips the phone open and puts it to her ear. "Olette? What are you doing? I thought that you were…" She pauses, listening intently.

Roxas rolls his eyes and puts his head back onto the makeshift pillow, while the rest of the group blatantly eavesdrops in on her not-so-private conversation.

"Oh. Really? Um, okay… But why…? Well, I don't know, but I'll try. Yeah. No, Riku hasn't said anything about that. Honestly! Besides, why would he talk to _me_ anymore?" A girlish giggle flies into the cell phone, "Yeah, if he was gonna tell anyone, it'd be Sora… _what?!_ No! At least, I don't think so. Huh. Now that you mention it…" She giggles again, causing Roxas to make a decidedly unsubtle coughing noise. Kairi frowns at him, but smiles at something spoken to her that no one else can hear. "Look, about that favor, it's fine, really. I promise. Yeah, of course! Totally." Cue another string of laughter, "Yeah, okay. Uh huh. Oh, before I forget, how's Selphie? Aw, good." Roxas coughs again. "Ugh, Olette, I have to go. …What?" Kairi blushes, glancing over at Axel, who looks on, bemused. "No! It's not like that. Have you been talking to Sora? Ugh, _Olette_…"

Raising an eyebrow, the green eyed young man smirks in an almost accomplished manner, and winks at the beat-red girl in front of him. Her blush intensifies.

"Look, I _really_ have to go now. Yeah. Of course. Yes, I promise. I'll talk to you later. Okay. Bye." The cell phone shuts in sync with yet another one of Roxas' coughs. Sighing, Kairi runs a hand through her hair, "I get it, okay? I'm off. Chill out."

But the coughing doesn't stop.

Demyx holds a dirty shirt to the boy's face as he hunches over, his lungs rattling. Naminé simply kneels there, nervously picking at the chipped black polish still clinging to her fingernails.

And Axel - arrogant, devilish, grinning Axel – takes a pristine water bottle out of his sleek, black messenger bag, unscrews the cap, and walks over to the dying boy. He gently, _so very gently_, removes the rag from Roxas' mouth and replaces it with the opening of the bottle, urging him to drink in a way that's compassionate, but almost routine.

It is only now that Kairi _truly_ sees the reason behind the mysterious phone call and frantic voices.

So, she decides to keep her word.

"St. Matthew's."

Roxas and Naminé only blink up in confusion.

Axel rolls his eyes at the small girl's suggestion, "Yeah, _right._ That would work. Thanks for playing, Kai, but I'm pretty sure you lose."

Obviously miffed by the fact that no one is celebrating her sudden willingness to come to their aid (or her sudden genius, for that matter), Kairi leans on one leg, jutting out her hip in defiance, arms folded across her chest. "Can you think of anything better? And don't call me 'Kai'." Bubblegum pink lips pull themselves into a pout, and for a fleeting moment, Axel falters.

But it was only for a moment. This is_ Axel_, after all.

"Look, sweetheart, the second these kids walk into that building, it's all over. They're minors, _Kai_. They'll be taken up and distributed from house to house like a pack of cards." He tells her this with the same raw intensity he had spoken with earlier; the same amount of venom and scorching fire. "Trust me."

(_What a silly thing to say in a place like New York City_).

The sound of a camera shutter makes Kairi jump, and her gaze is pulled from Axel and down to the floor, where a single Polaroid lies.

"Oops. Sorry. Is this a bad time?" A boy a bit on the chubby side stands in the doorway, a large, old camera resting in his hands.

Demyx stands and puts on a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Of course not, Pence. We're all family, here."

But Roxas doesn't want Pence to get involved, doesn't want his friend to get hurt. So he lies through his teeth in a way that reminds Kairi of the castle she wants to escape from, "Actually… this is a bit of a private conversation. Sorry, Pence. Why don't you go take pictures of Yuffie? I'm sure she'd be thrilled."

The photographer shrugs, not really wanting the self-titled ninja to be his only model (again), but in a life like his, there's no room for complaining. So he turns around and walks away, the forgotten Polaroid sent moving in Naminé's direction from the slight push of air from Pence's foot.

And with nobody watching, she pockets the photo, another reference for another sketch.

"He's not going to a hospital. That's final." The argument starts up just as heated as it had been before. Green eyes meet blue, and something dangerous and electric buzzes between them.

Demyx rubs a calloused hand over his face and sits back down next to Roxas, restraining him as he attempts to get up.

"A hospital?! No. Freakin'. Way"

Axel gestures to the boy, giving a single nod toward Kairi as if saying, '_There you go._'

But this upper-class girl was raised to never let go of a golden opportunity, and with an errand that she has to run, this situation has _golden_ written all over it.

"I can sneak you in. Honestly. I have a friend whose father is the chief surgeon, so she pretty much works there. She wants me to do something for her anyway, so that can be our cover. If I clean you up enough, no one will notice a thing. I'm telling you, this can _help_."

Sick of the blood on his hands and the death in his lungs, Roxas considers her proposal. After a painfully long silence, he speaks. "Fine. I guess this could work, but I'll only go on_ one_ condition." He turns to his older brother, determination set in his expression, and Demyx knows that no matter what he wants or thinks is right, he is going to lose this battle. "You stay here and watch everyone. They need you. You know, just in case."

And there's no use arguing, so Demyx keeps silent and ruffles Roxas' hair affectionately in reply.

Ignoring Axel's evident anger, Kairi smiles up at him, batting her eyelashes. "Great," she turns to Roxas and Naminé, "now let's go."

(_and for once, she feels like she has a part in this fairytale_)

- x -

A glittering smile gleams from one side of the darkened office, its attention focused on a certain photograph of a certain girl (_with her elaborately made-up face and windblown hair_). A waif of a girl with hungry eyes; hungry for something more, something _better_.

It's all too perfect, really.

And as a long, pale finger reaches out to punch a series of numbers, the smile only seems to widen. It speaks in a voice eroded by cigarettes and shouted orders.

"I think we've found her."

A dial tone cackles in response.


	5. five

**note; **I had _way _too much fun writing this. xD  
This is a MUCH lighter chapter than any of the others,  
because I felt like this fic was drowning in ridiculous  
amounts of emo. I hate having to clean up hair dye and  
eyeliner, don't you? ;P There are quite a few 'reality check?'  
questions that may come up in this chapter. Haha. I'll probably  
answer them indirectly sometime soon.

- x -

**v.**

- x -

The hospital smells like death and cheap cleaning products. It stings as Kairi inhales, but she's too busy attempting to convince the nurse at the front desk that _yes, I actually know Olette _to notice. But of course, the nurse is not buying it. She's middle-aged and short-tempered, with no patience for uptown girls and their innocent eyes.

Eventually, one of the doctors recognizes the petite girl dressed in black, and lets her into a certain room (that houses a certain boy for whom Olette requires a certain favor to be done).

The shadows of footsteps echo throughout the hallway (_each set of feet as nervous as the other_), and stop at room eighty four.

"It'll only be a second. I promise. She's not supposed to be tending to him, but she wants me to make sure he's all right." Here, Kairi takes a moment to roll her expertly made-up eyes. "I swear that girl is too nice for her own good."

The handle turns with a harsh 'click', and the door is opened to reveal a bed.

And in that bed, is a boy.

And that boy's name is –

"Hayner…?" Roxas lets the word tumble, shocked, from his lips (_his face is free of grime and poverty; a thin mask of "normalcy" has been slipped over his head for the time being_).

The boy named Hayner opens a tired brown eye. "Olette? I thought you had to…"

Zoom in. Focus.

Action.

A friendly shout of familiarity is lost in the sound of one body hitting another, as Roxas tackles Hayner in a hug. Tears well up and dribble down freshly-scrubbed cheeks, embarrassed laughs and '_I thought you were dead!_' taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

And Kairi stands there, surprised, and absently notes that this is the first time she's seen Roxas smile.

- x -

"I still don't understand why we have to stand out here," Axel complains, an unlit cigarette moving between his lips as he pulls a silver lighter out of his suit jacket. "That girl is so paranoid. I mean, sure, I _might have_ earned a restraining order from one of the nurses, but if she can sneak ol' Roxas in, why not me?" The end of the cigarette flares to life. "It's discrimination, that's what it is."

Naminé simply swings her legs from her seat on the white metal bench, trying her best to ignore the smell of smoke and the sound of Axel's ranting.

- x -

Flawlessly white teeth take microscopic bites of food, while carefully painted lips form rings around wineglasses and laughter is forced into dull conversation.

This is Olette's only definition of _family dinner_.

But she never can see the family.

"So, 'lette, _darling_…" her mother begins, and already, Olette is bored to tears. The woman's voice has a distinct slur to it, and Olette can see the tips of her ears becoming flushed. Tipsy by 6:45; it's a new record.

"… I was wondering why you rejected your sister's invitation to join her at the studio tonight. Everyone has always told you what a pretty face you have, I'm sure that the agency would _love_ to have you along with her –"

"I'm not interested in that, mommy," the (_demure, dutiful_) daughter replies as she daintily dabs at her mouth with a napkin. "I've told you so a million times. I want to be a doctor, not a model."

Her father nods approvingly, his eyes never leaving his meal.

"But, honey, Selphie would just love it so if you joined her!"

It takes every ounce of Olette's self-restraint to stop herself from laughing. Right. Selphie adores the spotlight, and for once in her life, _she_ has it instead of her sister. Intelligence has never been Selphie's forte; she has been the beauty of the family (_what family_?), while Olette has always been the brains.

And no amount of whining from their mother is going to change that.

Excusing herself from the table, Olette rushes up the winding stairway to her room. When she reaches her bed, all she can think about is the rather suspicious reputation of the particular agency that recently signed Selphie. Three (or was it four?) of their previous models have all mysteriously disappeared within the past five years. Not that it is at all unusual – every once in a while, the stress will become too much and the model will jet off to their personal paradise; or maybe they will become involved in drugs and attend a rehabilitation center disguised as a resort.

But this fact refuses to cease its incessant nagging, and all Olette can see is the face of her sister, wide-eyed, ambitious, and impressionable.

(_stand still, look pretty._)

- x -

Tendrils of gray dance through the frozen air, and for a split second, Naminé has the urge to reach out and snatch a few in the palm of her hand. But smoke, as everyone knows, is impossible to catch. So Naminé simply sighs and rubs her arms, wishing that it would snow to make all of this ugly turn beautiful again.

"Hey, squirt…" Axel nods in her direction, "What do you think is taking them so long?"

Naminé looks up at him, shrugging her narrow shoulders up and down. "I dunno," she answers, her voice rough from lack of use, "maybe they got caught or something. I just want to get _out_ of here. I hate hospitals." She shivers, whether for emphasis or from the weather, Axel isn't sure. "They're so… _white_. Too much canvas and not enough paint, y'know?"

A part of him _does_ know, but that part has become quieter with each passing day. So Axel doesn't reply, only takes a long drag on his cigarette before flicking it to the ground and stepping on it with the heel of his boot. (_Another light snuffed out in New York City; another dying flame_)

Naminé licks her lips, letting the tip of her tongue run over the cracks before speaking once more. "I just want Roxas to be okay. The way he used to."

And Axel continues to stay silent, but wraps an arm around the porcelain doll next to him. _I do too, pet. I do too. _

Suddenly, the automatic doors slide open and reveal three figures, each grinning as impishly as the other. One girl and two boys.

Kairi, Hayner, and Roxas.

It takes Naminé exactly four seconds to register the smile on Roxas' face and the familiar image of a boy with sandy hair.

It takes Axel only three to yell, "Holy freaking _shit!_ It's a zombie!"

Roxas laughs and Hayner quirks an eyebrow, but both squirm in embarrassment as Axel wraps them in a hug.

An elderly couple entering the building tuts disapprovingly at the dirty word and public display of affection (_these kids today…_), and Kairi looks a round warily for anyone she recognizes. So far, they're in the clear, but for how long?

"As much as I love seeing all of you in a good mood, we _really_ have to get out of here. Like, now."

Naminé nods, a slight blush painting her cheeks as Roxas slips his hand through hers and the group starts walking away.

- x -

"Forgive me for interrupting what I'm sure was a brilliant train of thought, but I'm only a _little_ curious as to what the hell went on in there." Axel's sarcasm reaches his lips as they twist into a grin; he glances down at Kairi, his right hand searching his pockets for a cigarette.

She can't stop the smile on her face or the joy in her voice as she answers him, "Long story short: I found Hayner, persuaded one of the interns to get a doctor to prescribe Roxas some medicine, and the three of us high-tailed it out of there." Giddy laughter colors her tone. "There _may_ have been an accident involving wheelchairs and a very angry nurse."

Axel chuckles and places a cigarette in his mouth; before he can even bring out his lighter, he sees Kairi looking up at him with her eyebrows knit into a scowl.

"What are you –?"

But his words die on his lips as a pair of blue eyes gets much, _much_ closer. (Axel absently registers the fact that they have both stopped walking).

He can see the freckles on her nose and the places where her eyeliner has become smudged. He can see every imperfection, every thing that makes her_ human_.

Her lips part slightly, and Axel feels his heart speed up just a little. She's close enough to –

(_Kiss_).

And suddenly, his cigarette is pulled out of his mouth and into the grasp of immaculate teeth. It is spit out into a slender hand and put between two fingers, then shoved into his face accusingly.

"Okay, no more smoking for you, Mr. Badass. It's unattractive, and will most likely kill you. Probably even make you ugly. So _stop_."

Axel blinks. Wait a second. The princess removed his cigarette with her _teeth_?

Well, isn't she feisty tonight?

In an attempt to hide the moment of weakness, Axel rolls his eyes, but instead of arguing (which he is sure she expects him to do), he begins to saunter down the city street, looking behind him slyly. "So, you _persuaded_ an intern, huh? Define 'persuade'."

And Axel smirks at the look on her face before turning around, feeling that for the first time in a while, he is _happy_.

- x -

"Tilt your chin down a little. Good, now relax your shoulders." Flash. "Better, but I need some more behind the eyes, you're looking a little dead here." Flash. "_Much_ better. Beautiful. Okay, last frame…" Flash. "…And we're done!"

Selphie smiles and thanks the photographer, then walks into the dressing room to exchange the gorgeous clothes for her own slightly-less-gorgeous outfit. Shirt? Check. Stockings? Check. Skirt? Check. Blazer? Check.

Wrapping her scarf around her neck and slipping her feet into her shoes, Selphie studies herself in the vanity mirror. In her own clothes, with her own hairstyle, she doesn't feel at all what a model should be. But, sighing, she decides it doesn't matter. She's only a model in front of the camera, anyway.

When she arrives outside, the young girl is annoyed by the following things: 1) Her sister had called her five times in the past half hour, and 2) her chauffer is no where to be found.

Great. Just _fabulous_.

The thought of sitting unaccompanied in a dirty taxi with a questionable cabdriver is enough to make Selphie want to shudder, but not enough to make her want to walk the thirty blocks home.

So she hails a cab, ignoring the distinct leer of the driver as he asks her "where to?", and shuts the door before answering in a decidedly icy tone.

As the taxi drives off, a man clad in black speaks into a cell phone,

"I think we've got her."

(_stand still, look pretty_)

- x -

The world is brightly colored with reckless cheers and (slightly) drunken laughter. They're not even _pretending _to be quiet, because nobody listens to this side of town.

Pence is taking pictures of a very inebriated Yuffie, who dances on a rickety table to music no one else can hear. Roxas and Hayner tell stories of their many misadventures to Demyx, who has heard them all before. And Naminé (_sweet Naminé_) simply sits next to Roxas, watching him with a heartbreaking tenderness in her eyes.

Meanwhile, Kairi tries her best not to vomit all over Axel.

"Geez, princess! I thought you'd be able to hold your liquor," the red-haired youth grins, chuckling as the 'princess' very nearly falls to the floor in an ungraceful heap.

"I_ can_ hold my liquor, what are you jabbering about?" Kairi slurs and uses Axel's arm to hold herself upright. "Oh, crap. What time izzit?_ Shit_, my parents're gonna freaking murder me!"

Axel only laughs, his emerald eyes twinkling mischievously. "And to think you were the designated driver," He smirks, "Don't you worry your pretty little head, Kai. I seem to be the only sober one here, ironically enough. I'll drive you home."

Mumbles of _don't call me Kai!_ and _I bet you say that to all the girls, you cheesehead!_ reached his ears, but he only ruffled her hair affectionately and took her by the hand.

She vaguely remembers tripping over herself the entire way to the mysteriously parked limousine, and the smell of smoke and cologne as she tried her best not to fall asleep on his shoulder.

But the distant whir of the street outside and the warmth radiating from his body as he wrapped an arm around her did nothing to help the poor girl stay awake. And right before sleep overtook her, a single thought made its way into Kairi's mind.

_How does he know where I live?_


	6. SIX

**note; **Finally, it's here:) Chapter six has arrived at long last.  
It's a bit longer than the others, which I think I'm going to turn into  
a constant occurrence. There's too much I need to get started now. xD  
This was a fun chapter to write, for whatever reason. I think it was the new  
characters. Yep. Thassit. Anyway, enjoy.

- x -

**vi.**

- x -

The air in the hotel is heavy with formality as Sora traipses into the dining area, the genuine smile on his face looking a little bit lost in a crowd such as this one. Partygoers see the intrusion, but only toss him a wave or a polite incline of the head. Because even if they don't admit it, the bouncy blue-eyed boy is a welcome relief (if also a highly adored member of society), and not one of them could crack a frown if they tried.

But the smile, while still undeniably genuine, is a bit… _off_ this morning. It might be caused by the cold and dreary weather, or the fact that his hair wouldn't spike the way it's supposed to. Perhaps Tidus forgot to tape last night's basketball game. Whatever the reason, it's certainly not important enough to put a damper on the perfectly planned-out brunch. Sora brings laughter; he never stifles it.

Each glance that he gives his watch becomes more anxious with time, and his smile grows more and more strained as he nervously sips his champagne – something Sora only drinks when he's in a panic._Where the heck is she?_

"Hey, slow down, bud. It's not like you to get buzzed this early in the day," a silver-haired young man slings an arm around Sora's shoulders, the concern in his voice carefully masked with feigned amusement. "You're usually such a morning person," the man grins and takes the glass from his friend's hands, "so what's eating you? And don't make that into a 'who', it's my job to say those sorts of things."

Sora has no need to turn his head in order to identify the voice's owner. "I'm fine, Riku. Really," he puts on his brightest smile for effect, attempting to reclaim the glass of champagne. "Now give it back…"

Riku smirks and downs the remainder of the liquid, ignoring the cry of protest from the shorter male. "That was for lying. And don't you dare contradict me, 'cause I know you too well. Something is bothering you, and now it's your duty to tell me what."

Sora tugs nervously at the hem of his dress shirt, doing his best to avoid Riku's piercing gaze. He hates being the best friend after a particularly nasty break up, but he hates it even _more_ when he's pulled between the opposing parties. It's not like he can lie to Riku (or anyone, for that matter), but on the other hand, he can't tell Riku the reason why he has circles under his eyes indicating a sleepless night of worrying.

So he tries his best to say nothing at all.

But that doesn't mean he can't sing.

"_I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts… here they are, all standing in a row…_"

Riku quirks an eyebrow, looking as though he can't decide if he should laugh or escort his friend into the lobby, away from anyone who is liable to misconstrue the situation. Not that there's much to misinterpret… Hell, if tomorrow's headline happens to be "LOCAL BOY ADMITTED TO MENTAL INSTITUTION", Riku isn't sure they'd be far from the truth.

"_Big ones, small ones, some as big as your head _-"

Just as some people begin to draw their attention toward the poor excuse for free entertainment, Riku grabs Sora's arm and drags him roughly out of the room, knocking into a few waiters along the way. Once the pair is safely out of earshot, the older of the two folds his arms expectantly.

"Dude, what is _wrong_ with you? Just how much alcohol did you have?"

Sora scrunches his face in an effort to keep himself from speaking, inadvertently causing Riku to grin and break his intimidating glare. And of course if Riku smiles, then Sora isn't far to follow. Pretty soon, they're both giggling like little boys cutting class for the first time, and any shred of concentration that Sora had has dissolved into the hardwood floor.

"Okay, honestly," Riku manages to choke out, grin still in place, "What's your deal? First you act all twitchy and anxious, and then you break out into song in the middle of brunch?" His smile suddenly transforms into a smirk, and he stealthily snakes an arm around Sora's waist. "Was that all an excuse to get me alone? Because if it was, all you had to do was ask."

Sora flushes and pulls himself out of Riku's grip, rolling his eyes in a futile attempt at nonchalance. "You wish. Nah, the real reason is 'cause I'm worried about Kai- oh, _crap_. I mean, um, _can you feel the love tonight_..."

But it's too late. Riku's smirk falls flat onto his shoes, a new edge moving into his turquoise gaze. "Kairi? Why were you worried about Kairi? Sora, if you know something that you aren't telling me," His voice dropped to a low growl, making Sora flinch instinctively, "you'd better 'fess up now."

A burst of cold air rushes through the well-heated lobby, and while the source is most likely the front doors, Sora can't help but feel otherwise. "Uh… Well…" he awkwardly shuffles his feet as he searches for a correct way to tell his friend the news. "I just haven't heard from her, is all. Nothing special. She's probably just at 'lette and Selphie's, sleeping. You know her. She hates these sorts of things."

Oh, the lies! The deceit! He is _so_ going to hell for this.

"Sora, cut the crap. I know for a fact that since both Olette _and_ Selphie are here, Kairi would be here too. So just tell me what the hell is going on."

Glancing up from his previous staring contest with his own shoes, Sora sighs and rakes a hand through his artfully messed-up hair. "All right. But _promise_ not to overreact…"

- x -

"_You have fourteen new voice messages… First message…_"

With a groan, Kairi flips her cell phone shut and sinks as low as she can into the pleather seat of the taxi, too distraught to notice the puzzled looks that the cabdriver is giving her. This is it. Her life, as she knew it, is over. Done. Finito. The fat lady has sung, and it sure as hell wasn't pretty.

Because Kairi – miss picture-perfect, delicate, angel Kairi – just spent the night in Axel's penthouse suite.

_Alone_.

Nothing had happened, of course. But then again, nothing needed to. The sheer fact that she had been seen slipping out of the hotel is enough to guarantee that by the end of the day, a few dozen photographs will be flying from phone to computer screen of one of Manhattan's golden girls 'caught in the act'.

And there is absolutely nothing she can do to stop it.

She had briefly considered waking Axel and voicing her concern, but she really didn't want to face him after last night. Who knows what sort of embarrassing things she might have said!

Upon this recollection, Kairi proceeds to bang her forehead against the fingerprinted Plexiglas window of the car.

Suddenly, her cell begins to vibrate.

_Incoming call… Sora._

Kairi bites her lip, but decides that if anyone deserves an explanation, it's him. Besides, he's never been one to judge.

So, when she puts the cell phone to her ear, she's a bit shocked at the voice that comes out of the speaker.

"Kairi," a very deep and very angry male voice (that totally does _not_ belong to Sora) snarls from the other end, "I'd like to know just what the hell you were doing with _Axel_ last night. I don't want to hear your excuses right now. So why don't you just tell me to my face?" A muffled '_give it back!_' interrupts the voice's venomous tone from the background, but goes on ignored. "I'll be waiting for you at _Destiny_ in half an hour."

A 'click', and the call ends abruptly, giving Kairi no time to respond.

- x -

All is quiet in this luxurious suite of the Oblivion Hotel; no sound is made, as to not disturb the much-needed sleep of one very important resident. The maids have been ordered not to enter, and not a soul has been allowed to pop in for a visit.

Yes, everything is nice and silent for this time of day.

This is why it's a pity that the hotel staff can do nothing about the upcoming disturbance (_wearing a suit that's much too wrinkled and a grin that's much too feral_).

"Axel!" A man with short red hair yells happily, pushing his sunglasses backward to rest on his head. "Hey, dude! Word on the street is you've deflowered Little Miss Kairi!" He takes a moment to laugh and tousle Axel's wild mane of hair the same vibrant hue as his own, "Congrats! Man, she may be pretty young for me, but she is smokin' _hot _if I do say so m'self."

Axel only grunts in reply and turns onto his side in an effort to make the annoyance disappear. No such luck.

"…I mean, honestly, I'm surprised no one has jumped her yet. Hey, wasn't she going out with that Riku kid? Geez, how'd she escape from _that_ relationship unmarred? I know this guy who says that he knows another guy who…"

God, why isn't he going away? Axel growls and places a pillow over his face, but finds that 1) he can't breathe, and 2) wait, _what the hell did he just say about Kairi_?!

Now very awake and very confused, Axel shoots up into a sitting position, green eyes wide. Reno, startled, falls back onto the floor and shouts, "Hey, what's your problem?"

Axel ignores him and processes his brother's words. Word on the street… deflowered… Kairi?

"_What_ did you just say?"

Reno stands awkwardly, but the smirk is still in place. "I know this guy who knows another guy who met a stripper over in Vegas, and –"

"No, before that!" Axel snaps, his sudden panic flaring into anger. "Do you think I _slept_ with Kairi?"

Reno's grin grows, and he claps Axel on the back in a congratulatory manner. "Think? Dude, didn't you? Everyone's been talking about it. I wouldn't be surprised if you got a freakin' medal for doing the impossible!"

Outside, a siren blares in time to a certain male's outburst. "Oh, _fu_–"

Reno's smile disappears as he sees the look on his younger brother's face. "Look, I'm just joking. Seriously, dude, don't get so worked up about it. No one's saying anything, as far as I know."

This new piece of information calms Axel down considerably. But only for a moment.

"You_ asshole_!" He yells, nailing the older man in the head with a pillow. "That – that wasn't funny!"

Now, Reno can't help but smirk. "It was funny to me. But," he continues, eyes scanning the floor of the hotel room, "I really did see the cute little red head waltzin' out of this place. And with your reputation, one can only assume that you two did the deed. Hold on, where are my sunglasses?"

Axel wearily runs a hand over his face. "Nothing happened, all right? She passed out before I could ask her where she lived, and I, being the gentleman that I am –" Reno snorts and rolls his eyes, but Axel goes on, "let her stay the night. The end. I repeat: nothing happened."

"Is it just me, or do you sound a bit… _disappointed_?" The older of the two teases, grinning as he ducks his head, just narrowly avoiding yet another pillow. "Right, well, you and I are wanted at _Destiny_ in half an hour. There's some brunch thing going on today, and you 'n I have to appear 'fashionably late'. So take a quick shower, 'cause you stink something awful, and _where are my sunglasses_?"

Axel only sighs and heads for the bathroom. It's much too early for this.

- x -

"You can_not _be serious," Selphie giggles, her head tilted back in unrestrained mirth. "Please tell me that you're joking. You simply _have _to be joking."

A blonde-haired stranger only smiles pleasantly before replying in a distinct British accent, "I assure you that I am perfectly serious. Does this look like the face of a liar to you?"

Selphie smiles at the older man, knowing quiet well that she is being flirted with. And despite the general 'ew' factor, she knows that flirting back will be worth her while. This man is a prominent figure in society, and owns a very prestigious modeling agency. To get on his good side would be fantastic for her career.

"It wouldn't, sir, if I didn't already know of your love for gambling."

His smile turns to an almost predatory smirk, and somehow his hand ends up on her waist. "I don't happen to think you're a gamble, my dear. Not at all. And I'd rather we skip the formalities," he continues as he leads the young girl into the backseat of his parked limousine. "Please, call me Luxord."

And as the sack goes down around her head, Selphie has no time to scream.

- x -

Music greets her at the entrance to the _Destiny _hotel, a swarm of all-too-familiar faces looking at her with fake warmth. "_Kairi, darling! Where on earth have you been?_" "_Oh, don't you look stunning. Such a pretty girl._" "_Tell your father that the meeting is in Barcelona this year._" "_You look parched, dear. Have a glass of champagne._"

It takes every ounce of Kairi's self control to keep herself from bolting in the opposite direction.

"Uh, Kairi?" A timid voice calls from behind her. It belongs to a girl about her age, but she can't seem to remember the poor girl's name. She's probably just another one of Selphie's clones. "Riku sent me to tell you that he wants you to meet him in the conference room upstairs," the girl squeaks out while staring fixedly at her shoes. Kairi would actually feel sorry for her, if she didn't happen to be the bearer of such bad news.

Smiling thinly, Kairi nods her thanks and dismisses the page, before balling her hands into fists. Nothing about this bodes well.

The conference room is located at the very end of a long hallway, conveniently secluded from the rest of the building. It is only used for two things – secret rendezvous that generally involve the removal of clothing, and civil discussions that turn into full-out arguments.

Kairi's betting on the latter for now.

After a good minute or so of imprinting red crescent moons into the flesh of her palms, Kairi takes a deep breath, and cautiously opens the large oak door.

"OHMYGODKAIRIYOU'REALIVE!" No sooner has she walked into the room, when a very anxious Sora nearly tackles her to the floor in a hug. "I was so worried. Don't you ever, ever, _ever_ do that to me again, y'hear?"

She can't help but smile and return the embrace, but the mood is quickly broken as a stony expression comes into view.

"What the _hell_ were you thinking?"

Sora lets go of Kairi to glare at his best friend. "Hey, calm down. You promised that you'd hear her side of the story first."

He quiets Riku in a way that only Sora can, but the silver-haired young man clenches his jaw in frustration. Kairi takes this as her cue to speak.

As she straightens her stance and moves to look Riku in the eye, unexpected anger rises within her. "Okay, first off, you have no right to be mad about _anything_. Us? Yeah, in case you haven't noticed, we are finished. And if I'm not mistaken, _you_ were the one who broke it off. So what I do and who I do it with should be none of your concerns."

Riku opens his mouth to object, but is cut off abruptly. "_LISTEN TO ME_!" Kairi shouts, shocking even herself. "I- I didn't _do_ anything with him, all right? And I know that's what you're about to accuse me of, I'm not an imbecile. He was being courteous, that's all! I had no place to sleep, so –"

"So he offered his bed and you graciously accepted?! Is _that_ it?"

"No! Look, will you put your male ego aside for a second and just let me –"

"Just let you _what_, Kairi?! Just let you try and weasel your way out of yet another difficult situation?" He lets out a humorless laugh that causes Kairi to flinch, "I _care _about you! I know this guy's type, all right? He's going to use you and throw you away like a discarded doll, and you'll come crying to me, and I won't – I refuse to – _ugh_!" Riku punches the table angrily, causing Sora to move toward him with the beginnings of a reprimand on his lips, but Kairi interjects.

"Kind of like what you did to me?"

The question is posed gently, as though any amount of pressure will make it shatter. It stops Riku in his tracks.

"I never _meant _to hurt you, Kairi."

"But you did! That's the thing! You can't _accidentally_ cheat on someone, Riku –"

"I never wanted to –"

"And neither does Axel! He's a _good guy_, Riku!"

"Right, and that's why he took advantage of you last night?!"

"He didn't!"

"_Then why did you go out with him and then never come home_!?"

"I told you, nothing happened! So just _leave it alone_!"

"Guys, both of you stop it!" Sora attempts to intervene, but is interrupted by a sound at the door.

"Hey, princess, could I speak with you a moment –"

And standing in the doorway is none other than the subject of this confrontation, Axel. Something dangerous flickers in his emerald eyes as he assesses the current situation, but his face remains blank. "Oh. I'm sorry, are you in the middle of something? I'll come back later, if this… _intriguing_ conversation takes priority."

Glossed lips open to speak, but not a word dares to come out. This is a battlefield, and she's been shot in the back.

The group sits in uncomfortable silence, until Riku strides heatedly past the man at the door, not even dignifying Kairi with a passing glance. Sora mouths, 'call me later' before following suit.

And it all comes crashing down.

She becomes nothing more than a little girl in a woman's clothing, a princess trying to pass for a queen. She bites her tongue to keep the tears at bay, but all that does is make her bleed.

When the remaining young man crouches down beside her, Kairi isn't sure what hurts more. The fact that Riku left, or the fact that Axel is still here.


	7. seven

**a/n; **This chapter's a lot shorter than the past few, so I'm sorry about that.  
It's taken me _so long_ to even start writing this, and I liked where I ended it,  
so I was just like, what the hell. At least things are starting to get interesting.

- x -

**vii.**

- x -

When Selphie's eyes are opened, she finds the world's been painted black.

A tingling sensation in her arms signals that they are asleep, but she can still feel the slight pressure of binds across her wrists. As best as a blind girl can, Selphie tries to check for damage. It's cold, the concrete flooring does little to cushion her bare feet, and the back of the chair is digging into her spine, yet she seems to be otherwise unharmed. In a rush, yesterday's (or was it only minutes ago?) events replay themselves in her mind's eye – _a charming stranger, a devilish grin, and a set of yellow eyes peering out of the shadows_ – and for a moment, Selphie cannot breathe.

"Oh, shit."

Suddenly, footsteps muffled by a medley of voices begin to approach. The conversation swells dramatically (_music played by an orchestra no one can see_) at the sound of a door being opened, and it takes all of Selphie's willpower to stop herself from shaking.

"Are you sure that this will bait the girl?"

"Of course it will. They're _best friends_, after all," another voice says with a certain sneer.

The sound of an impatient sigh floats lazily through the room, "I just wish he'd hurry up already with retrieving the spiky-haired brat. We only have so long, you know."

"Dude, will you stop complaining for like, _one _second? Seriously. That kid has one hell of a stubborn streak, in case you don't remember."

"I remember everything," the third voice snaps, annoyed, "But what I _don't _recall is why Nine was chosen to 'help'. We all know he's an incompetent fool. The man can't even follow simple orders!"

"Oh, shut up, will ya? Now that we found the girl, we've got bigger fish to fry."

The other voice sighs in response, but nothing more is said. Footsteps file out slowly, the only other noise heard is the sound of a cell phone being dialed. The door creaks to a close, and Selphie is left alone again.

Or so she thinks.

Something soft brushes across her cheek, making the young girl gasp into her gag. A low chuckle from behind her sends shivers down her spine.

"A rose for a rose," he whispers, and Selphie can feel the bile start to rise. She attempts to move away, but to no avail. The chair is nailed to the floor.

Upon seeing this, the voice simply laughs, his grip tightening on her shoulder. "It's no use, little bird," he says gently, "No one is here to save you."

And when Selphie tightly shuts her eyes, a tear rolls down her face.

- x -

The filtered morning sunlight casts a sickly glow on the grease-slicked table in front of her, a grimy ketchup bottle reflecting off of the laminated menu. The smell of stale coffee and bacon sits in the air, and bad music from the 70's softly plays throughout the room.

And Kairi, all dolled up in a pretty little white dress, feels remarkably less out of place here than she did back at the hotel.

"So, who's winning?"

Kairi looks up and meets the amused gaze of Axel, the young man who had kindly gotten her the hell out of that stifling prison.

"Um, what?" Ah, Kairi. Always the eloquent one.

Axel smirks and nods toward the table, "The staring contest you're having with this guy over here. Who's winning? Because I think the table's at a disadvantage, not having eyes and all."

Kairi flushes slightly, but scowls in an attempt to regain her composure. "Very funny. Why'd you take me _here_, anyway? It's not exactly a place I'd peg you to haunt."

"We're here to talk," he says, suddenly serious, his green eyes watching her with an unsettling intensity. "You can't expect me to see all of that and keep quiet. I _am _me, after all. Personal boundaries and I don't really mesh well."

"I can tell," she mutters, crossing her arms over her chest and moving her gaze to the rain-washed window.

A small silence then follows as Kairi stares defiantly at the humanity outside, ignoring Axel's unwavering gaze. With a sigh, he gives up, running a hand through his mess of hair.

"Look. Kairi. _Kai_," he adds, grinning at the predicted reaction as she turns to face him sharply, "I'm not going to pretend that I know you. 'Cause I don't… which is why we need to talk about a few things. Like the fact that most of Manhattan is probably aware by now that you spent the night at my place."

Kairi tenses, opening her mouth to object, "But nothing –"

"– happened, I know." Axel finishes for her, and the girl seated across from him notices just how tired he looks. "You know that isn't going to cut it. Nothing needed to happen. The match has been thrown, princess, and these flames are the kind that I can't handle."

Turning away, Kairi bites the inside of her cheek to keep herself from dashing out of there and into the haven that is her bedroom, hiding under the covers until the whole world melts away. It's only typical that right after she does something genuinely kind for another human being, her own life goes down the drain.

Kairi lets out an aggravated moan. Karma isn't a bitch – she's a two-faced whore.

All of the sudden, Axel's cell phone beings to vibrate. His face remains impassive as he reads the received text message, but as soon as the phone is shut, he slaps his hands onto the rickety table and pushes himself into a standing position. The noise makes Kairi jump and look up in alarm.

"Fine. You know what? We can talk another time. Right now, you seem like you need to curl up into a ball and eat a pint of Ben & Jerry's or whatever chicks do to escape from their problems. I'm just sick of you sitting there, pouting at me like it's _my _god damn fault."

And before she can protest that it _is _his fault in the first place, he roughly grabs Kairi by the arm and all but drags her out of the door.

"Hey, what –"

"I've got a schedule to keep, sweetheart. Places to go, people to see. I don't have time for high school drama, all right?"

She's in a taxi before she can blink, and Axel is nowhere to be found. Dazed, Kairi stares blankly at the head of the passenger seat.

"What the _hell_ was that about?"

- x -

The air in the club is thick with secondhand smoke and teenage rebellion. Strobe lights flicker dangerously in time to the feverish dancing, further concealing any form of identity that just so happened to have gotten in. Girls vie for attention with short skirts and darkened eyes while a heavily remixed song pumps out through the speakers.

In the midst of all this, acting as though he owns the world, is a certain young man named Riku. And while he doesn't own _the world_, he does own the club, and around here, that's the next best thing.

"_Ri-ku_," the brunette next to him whines, obviously uncomfortable, "Can we leave now? It's a school night, and I'm pretty much bushed…"

The older teen fails to even offer his friend a glance; he only sips his drink and stares at the crowd of bodies before them. "You can go if you want, Sora. I'll be right behind you."

Sora rolls his eyes, knowing full well that he'll find Riku passed out on the floor of the hotel bar in the morning, but rises to leave. "I'm not letting you do this to yourself. Not again," he says firmly, and takes Riku's hand, pulling him upright.

It isn't late enough in the day for Riku to stumble around like a drunken fool, but stumble is what he does. His balance is lost for a single moment in time, and that one moment is all it takes for him to go flying into Sora's chest and for the pair to fall ungracefully onto the floor.

It takes roughly ten seconds for either one of them to rise.

"God, Riku, you stupid klutz…" Sora mutters, cursing the slight pink in his cheeks as his blue eyes scan the crowd around them, silently saying, _"There's nothing to see here._"

But the klutz in question simply stands, and Sora is surprised by the stony look on his friend's face. He rakes a slender hand through his long silver hair, the other hand pocketing what seems to be his fallen cell phone.

"I think I'm going to take a cab," he says curtly, and turns on his heel without even giving Sora so much as a wave.

- x -

The air is cold. Frigid. The entire building is cast in the glow of weak daylight, despite the sunny sky of late afternoon. The walls are blank – lifeless. There is no humanity, here.

"What took you so long?"

Voices gather behind the sleek metal doors of a conference room.

"I told you, I was busy."

"_Busy_? Buddy, there ain't anything more important than your family."

"'Family'. Tch."

"Don't light up in here, moron. It makes the whole place reek."

"I can smoke wherever I want to smoke!"

"Settle down, you bunch of neanderthals!"

The room lapses into fragile silence.

"Thank you. The boy isn't here yet, so the meeting will begin in a few minutes. If he fails to enter by that time, well, you'll just have to wait and see."

Nervous laughter arrives right on cue.

"Eight, please share with the class how your _project_ is coming along."

Zoom in on a flash of fear in a young man's eyes.

"It's fine. He'll come around within the next couple weeks."

The camera pans left to a feral grin.

"Oh, really? Well, then…"

One, two, three.

"…I guess that we should speed up the process, if that's all right with you. It is, isn't it?"

Get set…

"Yeah. Why wouldn't it be?"

Action.


	8. EIGHT

**xiii.**

_all the glitter falls on her  
and the room is her stage._

- x -

Smoke and sin and sunlight cling to her as she slouches against the cab's back seat, the pleather of the headrest catching strands of her hair. Sculptures, bus stops, buildings, and the ever-steady flow of people turn into a massive blur that Kairi stares at with unfocused eyes. Everything is screwed to hell -- she can feel it in her bones -- and nothing about the devilish man named Axel makes any sort of sense. Why _her_, why _this_, why _now_? Who is he, really, and what does he have to do with Roxas and Riku and - oh, God, Riku…

The young girl lets out a pathetic whine, running a hand through her tangled, greasy auburn hair. All she really wants is a nice, hot bath to mull things over. Maybe a reassuring kiss from Yuna, her cat. All she needs is to get home, and _fast_. Kairi has always been a good girl (sort of), so her parents aren't exactly used to their only daughter forgetting to come home at night.

But just as the cab pulls up to her family's penthouse, an over enthusiastic pop tune begins playing shrilly from the confines of her clutch purse.

"Damn it, who's calling me _now_?" Kairi grumbles exasperatedly, slamming the garish yellow door of the taxi and reaching to pay the driver through the window.

Flipping the phone open and watching the taxi move on down the street, the young girl is startled by a series of unintelligible wails. She takes the cell phone from her ear to glance at the caller ID.

"Olette?" she tries slowly, "Is that you?"

She barely makes it to the front steps before a sniffling, "Yes…" answers through the speaker.

"What's wrong? Did something happen?"

"Selphie's gone."

Kairi blinks, her hand pausing on the cool glass door. The words had come out in a rush of sound, hindered by the obvious croak in her friend's voice. "…What?"

There's a shaky breath on the other line. "Selphie. She's gone. No one has seen her since this morning, and she's missed two casting calls. _Two_. Y-you know as well as I do that she… she'd _never_ do that! Mom and dad aren't listening to me - they think she's just gone out again, but she hasn't! Something's _wrong_!"

Pushing her way into the heated building, Kairi gives a tight-lipped smile to the doorman, and walks over to the elevators. "Olette… are you _sure_? I mean, Selph isn't exactly known for her punctuality."

"With modeling she is. It's all she lives for, Kairi! You've done runway with her before - you know how she serious she is about the whole thing. Something's _wrong_," Olette repeats, and Kairi raises the hand holding her clutch to pinch the bridge of her nose.

Stabbing the already glowing button with unneeded ferocity, the small auburn-haired girl can't help but notice the panic in her best friend's voice. "Look, why don't you meet me at my place in half an hour? We can go out and scan Selphie's regular haunts. She's probably at Riku's club, anyway, and- Hold on, I have another call coming in."

Sighing, Kairi presses the green key on her phone before putting it back to her ear. "Hello?"

"Kairi, what the heck is wrong with Riku?"

Kicking off her shoes as she steps onto the carpeted floor of the elevator to her apartment, Kairi stretches once the automatic doors slide shut. "Other than the fact that he's a possessive prick who doesn't know the difference between 'nice' and 'sleazy'? No idea."

Now it's Sora's turn to sigh. "No, seriously. He's acting… strange. He's distant, even to me. I just…" Here, the boy's voice grows small so that Kairi has to strain to hear it. "I think it's happening again."

Red numbers flash in front of the young girl's bright blue eyes, the constant whir of the elevator climbing its way upward the only noise as Kairi pauses before speaking. "This isn't your cell phone number, Sora. Where are you calling from?"

"_Replica_," Sora replies with an edge of frustration laced in his tone, "I think I lost my cell. Riku just left me here, so I have nothing to do. When I called Wakka, he was obviously baked, and I don't like that sort of thing. Thus, I called you to rant about a certain best friend of ours… well, mine. I guess."

Kairi bites her lip, mind a million miles away as she stares, unseeing, at her pink-polished toes. The carpet feels good against the soles of her feet. "Don't worry. It's just Riku being Riku. And I'll help you find your phone if you come with me and Olette to find Selphie. Would you mind heading on over? I'm just going to take a quick shower."

"Selphie? Is she okay?"

"She fine," Kairi sighs, heaving herself up into a standing position as the elevator doors open. "I'll see you in a bit," she lightly pushes a button on the keypad of her cell phone. "Olette? You still there? Yeah, you can come over now. Don't worry, I'm sure everything's okay-"

Stepping out onto the cool marble floor of the foyer, Kairi pauses. If there is one thing she takes pride in, it's that her apartment is never empty. There's always the constant buzz of the maids and the kitchen hands that Kairi can come home to when her parents are too busy to be seen. Always an affectionate _"Kairi!"_ that greets her as she pushes her way through the swinging kitchen doors.

But now, there's nothing.

Every light is turned off, every sound is silenced. Kairi sees nothing but a gray-tinted coldness blanketing everything around her, void of any sign of life, except…

"M-mom? Daddy…?"

The phone clatters to the ground, words appearing on the screen: _Connection lost._

And in a way, she's glad that no one has to hear her scream.

- - -

"So I see you've decided to grace us with your presence this afternoon."

"Don't test me. You know how I feel about this."

"_Oh?_ And how _do _you feel? Because I think I'd be able to relate, don't you?"

"Eight, silence."

"Everything is falling into place as we speak. We have managed to provide a bit more… _incentive_ for the girl to do as we ask. Speaking of, Eight, how's the boy? Hasn't died yet, I hope."

A strangled growl reverberates throughout the room.

Laughter.

- - -

"_Shit_!"

Sirens roar like animals as the police cars rev up with manic growls, just waiting to pounce. Hayner laughs -- a wild, nervous sound that quickly falls back as he scrambles away (_and if he's quiet, he can almost hear it die between rubber tires and asphalt_).

"Hayner!" the accusatory glare reaches him before he even turns to see, and Pence's doughy face is contorted in exertion. "What in the name of all things holy did you do _this_ time!?"

Vendors and yuppies and tourists alike all veer out of the way as the two teenage boys jet down the busy street, sweating and out of the little breath they had. Brows wrinkle in pain once they skid to a stop, safely away from the policemen stuck in traffic, their chests heaving with each lungful of ice-cold air.

The vandal in question pushes a lock of sandy blonde hair out of his line of vision, his right hand clutching at the lower half of his ribcage. "Damn," Hayner winces with what's left of a grin, "I think I might've popped a couple stitches."

At this, Pence glances over at his friend in an expression flitting between exasperation and alarm. Exasperation, because Hayner might just be the most impulsive and idiotic boy that Pence has ever met; alarm, because they really can't afford much of anything, let alone a medical bill.

"Hayner, you're a jerk," is all that the other boy can choke out while he slouches against a record-store window, still winded from their run-in with the law.

But Hayner just smirks because he's heard it all before, and knows that the exercise will be good for Pence, anyway.

The trees swish and sway in their black metal cages as the shivering pair walks down the street once more, bare hands shoved into the pockets of coats too ratty to be useful. The middle-class families from Texas and Maine pretend not to see them; if they're blind, maybe they won't feel so guilty about the safe stronghold of suburbia that's just a plane ride away. Maybe they won't feel so bad about the wad of twenty dollar bills stashed in their jeans, held together with monogrammed clips.

Their selfishness stains the skin of their hands.

Hayner keeps his brown eyes on the cracks in the sidewalk and pretends not to feel angry. ("_LOOK AT ME! JUST FUCKING _LOOK_ AT ME!"_)

His mouth stays closed the whole way back.

Pence notices (Pence _always_ notices), but doesn't say a word. He just idly fingers the strap around his neck, hoping that maybe someday -- _maybe_ -- his camera can speak for them.

Until then, the city sits in silence as their abandoned apartment comes into view, and when they quickly jump into their concrete vault, death is all they hear.

The sound of Roxas dying is one thing that they've never gotten used to.

The taller boy curls his toes inside his worn-out sneakers, nudging open a door with his shoulder and lying down gingerly on top of a mat. "Hey, Demyx?"

"Hmm?" The oldest of the group replies from his perch at the single window, turning his head so that the cold evening light casts his face into shadow. He glances automatically around the tiny room in a head-count before focusing his blue eyes upon Hayner. Old habits tend to die hard.

Hayner turns his attention to a bullet hole in the wall. "How is he?"

Demyx doesn't need him to specify who he's referring to. His fingers tighten around the neck of his guitar, and he pauses before answering. "No worse than yesterday. I was able to get him to eat a little something, but he needs clean water, which is something we don't have on demand. But he laughed!" Here, Demyx moves to face the room, a hopeful smile adorning his mouth. "He _laughed_ -- I mean, I haven't been able to get him to do that since… Well, not in a long time."

Yuffie grins encouragingly and tugs on the end of Demyx's scarf, gesturing for him to sit down with her. He obliges, smile broadening, and pulls her onto his lap, resting his chin in the crook of her neck. "Hayner… what happened while you were out?"

"Nothing," the younger teen replies a bit too quickly, the tips of his ears flushing.

Pence rolls his eyes in response, but doesn't correct him. Even Demyx leaves it alone, shrugging and starting to play with the ends of Yuffie's hair.

There's a comfortable sort of quiet that rests lightly upon the tiny room, interrupted only by the constant wail of the frigid autumn wind. Demyx hums a Beatles medley while Yuffie begins to fall asleep on his lap, and Hayner stares at the ceiling, absently wondering why Pence feels the need to take pictures of him at this particular moment in time.

But Roxas has stopped coughing, so everyone is calm.

Until.

The door slams open with a jarring _bang_, causing everyone in the room to jump, and even those in the hallway outside turn to look in the doorway curiously.

Acidic eyes burn through the smoke-and-sinner's haze.

"I need to talk to Roxas," Axel snaps, breathing heavily, his usually smug face now pale with panic. "_Now_."

- - -

Lights surge and dim in the concrete cage, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The lower half of a broken crayon lies dejectedly in a corner, and muffled sobs are heard.

"I'm so very sorry," the white witch whispers, a pale hand trembling as it hovers over the scar - too jagged and scabbed and _ugly_ to belong on a girl as beautiful as the one he's chosen. That pretty party dress of hers has become tattered and stained with an invasive sort of sin that reminds her of unwelcome thorns. "It hurts, doesn't it?" the makeshift artist sighs, and the prisoner shivers with her arms and legs bound.

_He finds the ones he likes_, the witch wants to say, _and pulls them out by the roots. Ties them in knots and pulls off each petal until finally, you're nothing. A stem. Trash. Beware_. She shuts her eyes, mimicking the darkness the other girl sees. _Beware._

But her lips stay pressed together, not one word falling out, because she knows that there are ears hidden within the walls. His golden eyes glint from the doorway.

(_I'm so, so sorry_.)

- - -

The heels of his boots click ominously against the cold concrete floor, the red of his hair the only color visible as he paces back and forth. His hands clench into fists at his sides.

"You wanted to talk?" Roxas asks smoothly, eyes cold and impassive, but the pale hue of his skin betrays him. "I don't understand why nobody _calls_ anymore."

Axel turns sharply to face him, and the manic lilt to his voice causes the younger man's face to soften in fear.

"Drop the act for just one fucking second, all right?" He lets out a humorless laugh. "I mean, look at you. You're falling apart. We're not invincible, Roxas." Sighing, Axel runs a hand through his shock of hair and grits his teeth before continuing. "Shit, that's what they're trying to fucking get _across_ to you, and you're just _sitting_ there letting them kill you!"

Roxas flinches. It's suddenly much too cramped in that small, damp room, and he just wants to get _out_. He makes a move toward the door, but Axel is too quick and grabs him by the shoulder.

"There's only one cure, Rox." And he knows, oh he _knows_. The poison is raw in his veins. "There's only one way. This isn't some fucking _test_ for you to overcome and play the tortured hero! You are going to _die!_"

The blonde-haired boy scoffs and crosses his arms, his teeth digging into the inside of his cheek. "I won't be one of their puppets anymore."

And that's when it shatters.

Axel roars - a loud, exasperated yell that resonates from deep within his chest. Roxas can almost feel it envelop him in heat and rage and fire. Hands clench and unclench themselves at leather-clad sides. The room tilts to the left, and Roxas blinks hard to try and clear his head.

"What part of this don't you under_stand_?!" Desperate eyes plead with the younger boy's, begging to be heard. The sharp points of Axel's fingers bite into Roxas' shoulders. "_HE IS GOING TO _KILL_ YOU!_ A-and fuck it, I-! _I can't let that happen!_" Shiver, shake, shudder, shock. Fear rolls off of the man in waves now; in shadows so dark and coarse that Roxas has to strain to see. Cracked fluorescent light glints off of Axel's face, and Roxas realizes that his friend is crying.

_Crying_. For _him_.

He… he can't handle this. This nausea that rises through him in thick, rolling waves of _fear_ and _remorse_ and _desperation_. It sweeps through the room, coating everything in a layer of soot and ash, and he just wants to go home, but where _is _home, anyway?

So Roxas does the only thing he knows how to.

He runs.

* * *

**A/N: **I am so sorry this took over a year! haha. uh... yeah. My bad. I've actually had this written for a hell of a long time, I just haven't gotten around to posting it. Oops. Sorry guys. I hope it's okay! I actually plan on continuing with this story, since I have a plot and all. don't hate me too much!


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